by K.A. Rose
Gensomaden Saiyuki/Saiyuki Reload characters et cetera © and ™ Kazuya Minekura, ENIX and TV Tokyo, 1997. Used without permission, for nonprofit fan appreciation. (Yes, even if this is a strange form of appreciation.)
This is a short piece originally posted to the livejournal Saiyuki fandom, as part of a short burst of ficlets dealing with threesomes wherein one or more of the participants were clones, in the fashion forwarded by the Death Match story in Reload volume 2. While most of the pieces written --including some others I did-- were straight-forward sex and even occasionally comedic, this sprang out completely left-field, and has been called the most violent and disturbing thing I've written since "Without the Moon". That's your warning.
Also, for the sake of completeness, this is technically a continuation of another piece, available here. It's just a small thing, though.
Again, A:VS for violence and graphic sex. Unkind character portrayals. But, I daresay, more IC than most people want to acknowledge.
Enjoy.
-----
There was nothing said about it the next morning,
or any morning after that. There was nothing that could be said, really,
that wouldn't shatter what they had left. A three-way stalemate: Gojyo
and Hakkai couldn't speak in their defense, because they didn't have one;
Sanzo couldn't acknowledge what he'd seen, because acknowledgement would
be admission, and in admitting he'd have had to say that it hadn't precisely
revolted him to see it.
Oh it did, it did. Very much so. Seeing that face
there looking back at him, with its cheeks flushed and white stuff dripping
from bruised lips... And those hazed eyes off somewhere else altogether,
too exhausted to even feel itself on the edge of climax, that glitter in
dark wet irises, that look, that 'don't you wish it was really you feeling
this right now?'
He was angry at Gojyo and Hakkai, oh yes. Angry
wasn't even the proper word for it. The right word didn't even exist in
Mandarin. Disgusted came close, that there they were, in possession of
this fantastic magical power, and they used it to make a living love doll.
In his image. When he was right next door.
They didn't summon it the night after the discovery.
Or the night after that. Actually, they went a whole two weeks without
dopplegangers at all, in what Sanzo supposed they thought was deference
to him. But when the needs of the mission forced unspoken skeletons back
into their closets and dialogue returned among the three, it wasn't too
long before the magic started again. And the moans of that third person
weren't long after.
Sanzo did nothing about it.
He didn't say anything, didn't do anything, didn't
even try to block it from his ears at night. He couldn't. Because every
cry he heard took on a new significance now. Every whimper of pleasure
was registering as his own. Sent shivers up and down his spine, poured
unwelcome heat into his body, squeezed a clamp around his neck. When it
gasped with release his skin burned and he would find himself grinding
against the sheets, the mattress, sliding his hands down under the band
of his jeans. Not even caring by then if Goku was really asleep in the
other bed. Goku probably knew what was going on anyway.
At the end of it Sanzo would look at the slick on
his palm under the light of the window and not feeling anything at all
about what he'd just done. And hating the voice in the other room all that
much more.
He was owed something. He was sure he was owed something,
even if those other two bastards weren't speaking up out of shame. That
was his body. That was his face they were ruining. His voice they were
scratching raw.
And he didn't even get to feel any of it.
The night he did something about it, he already knew
just what he needed to do.
They washed before-hand, both of them. This particular
hotel was western with individual baths, and Gojyo and Hakkai used those
together when they could. The only obstacle was obtaining a key to their
room, and all that needed was asking the front desk for a spare. It was
rented under Sanzo's name, after all.
Hakkai always magicked the ki construct early, so
it would be there when the two got out of the shower. When Sanzo opened
the door it was huddled in a corner staring at a patch of wall, and showed
no particular interest when the priest approached it, apart from standing
up straight.
They'd given it his spare leather again, and a bathrobe,
because it was the best they could do off laundry day. The bathrobe only
went down to its knees, and for how they'd tied the sash, the creature
wasn't even very well covered, but it didn't notice. It didn't notice almost
anything. Probably it understood that it was looking at a mirror of its
own face, that it should be disquieted by how Sanzo paced around it and
looked it up and down, circling like a predator, but it only worried its
lip a little and blinked.
It was strange seeing yourself like this. Not just
a reflection, but some poor dummy mock-up, a distorted funhouse shape.
It was how you'd look with the brain of a cow in that head of yours. The
watery trusting eyes, the open mouth, the arms and legs it didn't really
know what to do with.
This was a poorer model than that youkai sorcerer
had used. Sanzo knew Hakkai did that deliberately. If you made it a doll,
you made it easier to control. Puppet. Toy.
Sanzo reached out a hand and touched its chin experimentally.
Same rough sandpaper. Drew fingers along its jaw and felt the ridges and
lines of faint scars. The thing blinked at him and tilted its head a little
to the side. Dumb animal.
He did something then, on a whim, that would be
hard to explain even for the context. He kissed it.
And of course there was nothing unfamiliar there,
nothing he couldn't have expected. The same taste, the same texture, same
heat. Boring. Nothing.
Sanzo stepped back. He shook his head.
Then broke its neck.
It was a quick snap. He felt the bones crunch under
his fingers as he twisted and then let go. It was smoke and vapor before
it even hit the ground, leaving just a tangle of old leather and cheap
terrycloth.
It was easy enough to dress down for the part, after
that. He didn't leave himself time to think about it. He was picturing
the thing's face, that glossy blank stare. Pictured the hunch of its stature,
the laxity of the muscles, the fall of its mouth, lips full and parted,
the shallow breath.
You are a doll. You are a thing. Mindless beast.
Toy. You breathe and you exist but you're a shadow on the wall. An image.
And you are nothing.
Do I do nothing when I see them? Do I recognize
them, stand at attention? Drop down on my knees?
Sanzo felt the numbness ebbing across his skin and
tried to wonder without tightening his eyebrows, tried to think. Think
about not thinking. Think about what in hell he was getting into. And that
he'd dare not get out. Not now.
He heard their voices first, the door opening, the
heat and moisture drifting out from the shower door. He didn't turn to
look. He stared at the floorboards, leaned against the wall. Tried not
to concentrate too hard on words, to stop just on tones, hums, alien.
Sanzo looked up at a strong hand on his shoulder.
Hakkai, not Gojyo. Clapping his hand down confidently and controllingly
and smiling into the priest's face.
No reaction. Don't react. Don't recognize him. A
little recognition. Just a little. Faint. Dim. Dumb cow eyes like the clone
had given him.
Gojyo was laughing. Muscular arm slinking possessively
around Sanzo's shoulders, turning him, forcing his gaze. Gojyo clean-shaved
and grinning, sharp lines of teeth, eyes with a look more intense than
any the kappa had worn around him in daylight.
"Damn, Hakkai. I love it when you make him so stupid."
Don't react. Don't react. Tilt your head at his
voice. Hear sounds. No context.
"It's a good look for him, don't you think?" said
Hakkai, smile still hanging in the corner of Sanzo's vision.
"Dumbshit blond. Just like he should be."
"Mm."
Don't react. Don't react. Take it and bear it. You
already decided you'd do this. You already said you'd go through with it.
Gojyo was leaning closer. Sanzo could smell the
shaving cream off him still. The toothpaste residue from his mouth.
Sanzo tasted it when Gojyo kissed him. Nearly lost
it, from the shock of it, inhaling sharply and shaking, jerking, trying
to pull away and hands forcing him to stay.
Hakkai laughed. Gojyo laughed into Sanzo's mouth.
Lapped at his tongue.
They'd seen this behavior before, they'd seen it
all before, all these reactions Sanzo didn't even know he had. What bullshit
was it, that they knew his body better than he did?
The doll acted like him. If he reacted naturally,
they wouldn't be able to tell the difference. He just had to drown out
the words.
Hakkai kissed at the join of Gojyo and Sanzo's lips.
He pressed forward, edging into it, until he stole Sanzo's mouth away for
himself. Harder kiss, rougher, forcing the priest's eyes closed, shut out
the rush before it completely washed over.
Thin healer's hand wedged between the press of their
hips, down into dull growing heat. Hakkai drawing away, out of the kiss,
cold air, turning to Gojyo with a murmur to 'go get ready on the bed.'
The arm around Sanzo's shoulder left. Bare footsteps
on the floorboards, the creak of a mattress.
Thought he heard the rustle of clothing sliding
off, but that was his own. Hakkai's hands at the sash of the poor bathrobe.
Easing it off Sanzo's shoulders, tracing the edge of the armwarmers by
the biceps, brushing fingers over his chest and hardened nipples and Sanzo
let the shudder work its path through him, the catch of his breath he was
sure Hakkai expected.
He was exposed below the waist. He could hear Gojyo
chuckling from the bed, murmuring about 'boy's cute little hard-on.'
Stiffening flesh Sanzo couldn't hide, couldn't shy from at all. If he did,
he'd lose everything.
Don't react. Just exist. You live and you're nothing.
Doll. Puppet. Toy.
You're letting them do this to you. You don't care
what it means. You decided this already.
"Go to the edge of the bed," Hakkai was telling
him. Slow, clear words, like he was speaking to a child. "Sit down and
put your legs up. Let's see you."
You decided to do this.
Because you want to.
Gojyo was there when Sanzo approached to sit down.
The kappa was leering, resting up against the headboard with his towel
off and legs spread. Half erection slick in his hand as he worked. Grinning.
So fucking amused.
Don't react. Don't. Background noise. Static.
Sanzo sat down adjacent, far down enough that he
could lie back without problem. He drew his knees up when Hakkai approached,
saying something, words lost until his hands were on the back of Sanzo's
thighs.
"No, no. Higher."
Hakkai pushed until the pressure turned into pain
and Sanzo couldn't escape the cry, and Hakkai beamed and pushed farther
still. Gojyo's hands on Sanzo's knees to keep them there, pressed near
his shoulders. Shaking. Breath in his lungs labored. Grays and blurs and--
"Spread yourself."
Sanzo's hands were digging into the skin of his
legs. Hakkai had to guide him down by the wrists.
"Shit, Hakkai, he's turnin' red."
"He's fine. See? He enjoys it."
Gasping desperately, failed breaths, fingers trembling
trying to find blind purchase around his entrance, sounds cottoning worse
than before.
"Hey, if this thing faints, it's no fun."
Whimper and yell when Hakkai moves his fingers just
right inside you. Let the sweat start down your skin. Let your body shiver
and ache for 'now, please, gods, now' because it's what you want,
damn it. You want it and it's your right to have it.
Sanzo wheezed when Gojyo let go of his knees and
Hakkai let him sit up. He didn't respond to the healer dragging him across
the bed. Propping him up, legs straddling Gojyo's hips, hot brand against
his inner thigh. Arms limp when Hakkai shifted them forward, positioned
him, angled his hips and guided him down.
"Gods," Gojyo hissed. "Every fucking time, just
like he's a fucking virgin--"
Light chuckle. "It has to be, Gojyo."
"D'you think he really is?"
"You've always suggested that."
"Yeah, but d'you think he really is? A virgin?"
"I wouldn't doubt, really. I can't imagine it ever
happening to him. Hm," Hakkai added. "He's not going down all the way."
Pain. Gods. Pain so incredible it blocked out everything.
Arms shaking, nails digging into Gojyo's stomach. Something too big trying
to fit down there, to push through into him. Pare him in two, tear him
right in half down the middle--
"Leave it," Gojyo was panting. "It's good. Serious."
"No, now," Hakkai lectured, "have a little patience."
He rested his hands on the priest's thighs. The
curve near the rump, the small muscles there. Squeezing and rubbing, forcing
the tension off. Going lower, massaging tight buttocks, trailing tongue
down the ridge of Sanzo's spine.
"Aaahhn--"
"There, see? Sometimes the animal is tense, Gojyo."
Sanzo panted against his shoulder, struggling to
stay braced against the kappa's chest. Not meeting either's gaze. Keeping
his eyes shut and feeling the sweat start to trickle down his skin, the
twitch and ache of every muscle in his body suddenly electrified, and god,
the pain--
Hakkai hooked a hand under his shoulder and pulled
him back, the same instant Gojyo sat up. Sanzo's back hit the mattress.
His head hit nothing, hung off the edge, suspended in space, someone's
hands on his thighs pushing them up near his chest again while the pressure
shifted and strained inside him.
Blood rushing to his head. Lungs failing. Throat
closing. The burn, the heat tearing him apart, the agony, mind-rending,
brain fogging and dimming and going out.
You wanted this. You told yourself you wanted this.
"Hey, Hakkai," the kappa was laughing. "I think
he's crying."
"Hmm." Hakkai leaned near Sanzo's shoulder. He cooed.
"What's the matter, Sanzo? Does it hurt?"
Sanzo watched him, looking up at blurring, washing
dim images. The dark smile on his face. No smile that Hakkai had ever turned
on him. No smile that Hakkai had ever turned on anybody.
A smile like he was enjoying this.
Sanzo didn't know what to answer. If he should answer.
If he should show anything, some recognition, some emotion beyond the pain.
Hakkai saw whatever he was looking for in the priest's
streaming eyes. He licked the tears up with his tongue.
"Good," he told Sanzo in a whisper near his ear.
"You deserve it."
And then Gojyo started to thrust.
He lost track of things after that. Pain blending
with agonized pleasure with his senses numbing out. Counts were useless.
Who and where and how many and again and again. He streamed sweat. Panted
raggedly, every muscle shaking violently with the fatigue, the hurt so
constant down there that he couldn't even register it now, even feel the
screams in his own throat when he came.
They forced him against the headboard and spread
his legs and made him mewl like a girl. Pushed him half off the bed and
held onto him by the waist as he hung and someone pounded him hard enough
to bleed. Bound his hands. Released his hands. Gagged him. Ungagged. Kissed
and sucked and bit and scratched and tore and laughed when he hit another
fitful climax. Took him in turns or took him together. Teased the look
on his face, teased his lips, the straining lines of his throat.
He took it all and said nothing.
After a while the memory was lost of why he was
even there. How this had even started. What he thought he was doing. Useless,
pointless questions.
You chose this.
You wanted this.
Because you wanted it to be your voice heard
through the walls. Your body pressed between them, all stuck skin
and bruising fingers. You wanted to see how it felt.
"This one's looking a little worn out."
"Should we choke it, to wake it up?"
"Damn, Hakkai, I knew you got off on that
breathplay shit."
"Not me. Not me," Hakkai disclaimed quickly, climbing
off Gojyo's shoulder. "You should have seen him that time in the forest.
He liked it."
Sanzo tried to think of whether that was true. If
it even mattered. But he couldn't focus.
He was curled at the edge of their bed, staring
at the wall. Fighting exhaustion badly, but he didn't dare fall asleep.
What would they do when they found out they couldn't make their little
apparition vanish?
Hakkai was asking Gojyo something. Gojyo answered
sheepishly, something about how he might need help. Hakkai seized on it,
leaning across the bed to squeeze a hand around Sanzo's arm.
"Over," Hakkai instructed. "Hup hup. There's a good
boy."
Trained animal. Those performing apes with the traveling
circus. Pulled by the arm like getting dragged on a leash.
His leather armwarmers weren't staying in place
now. Kept slipping down. Too wet. He'd completely lost the shirt. They'd
had too much fun marking up his chest.
Muscles shuddered when Hakkai's hands forced him
down to lean over the kappa's stomach. Wet swath of sweat and saliva and
come. Probably Sanzo's on there too.
"Lick."
It was bitter. He let himself gag. The doll would
have gagged. And kept going, cleaning the mess off Gojyo's skin, let the
hands
slinked in his wet hair slowly guide him downward.
"Suck it."
Sanzo stopped.
"Come on," Gojyo said further up on the bed. Exasperated.
He pushed. Sanzo pulled back. Gojyo pushed harder.
Sanzo struggled.
"What the fuck. Just do it!"
Sanzo's stomach turned violently. He smelled the
lube off Gojyo's erection. The grease. That body smell. Filth. Flashed
to how many times he'd seen it push hot and slick into Hakkai. Into himself.
No.
Gojyo pulled at his hair to force him down. Sanzo
thrashed, edged away, turned his head so that the tip couldn't touch his
lips.
"Goddammit. Hakkai, your fuckin' pet's acting up.
Come on!"
Didn't breathe. Didn't dare breathe, didn't want
to smell it, didn't want the whimper to unlock his jaw even for the slightest
second. Pulling, jerking back, harder, panicked, hair tearing and nails
digging into his scalp--
Gojyo hit him. Hard smack across the side of the
head. Yelled something. Insult. 'Come on, you fucking priest!'
He hit him again. And again, his fist connecting
hard with Sanzo's temple.
"Do what you're told, you cunt! Shitty whore!"
The priest fell. Rolled to the side. Off the edge
of the bed, shoulder connecting painful with the floorboards. Gojyo was
there after him, kicking his stomach, his ribs, arms. Pulling him up by
the hair, tossing. Punching over the shouts, the angry bile, the 'every
day. every fucking day, you fucking cunt. I'm going to kill you.' Hakkai
trying to cry reason in the background and drowned out by the hard smacks
sending fireworks across Sanzo's vision.
Don't react. Don't react. Don't react. You deserve
it. You wanted it. Don't react.
Another yell. Lost. Fist hitting harder than ever
across his face, a real punch, raw, PAIN and crack and copper in his mouth
as he fell and rolled, hit the wall.
"Motherfucker!" Sanzo shouted, bringing a
hand to his mouth when the blood started to pour out. "Stop!"
Silence.
It went a long time. He didn't know how long. Gojyo
and Hakkai frozen, mouths open, eyes unable to blink.
Sanzo sucked labored breath through a broken nose.
Teeth felt loose.
He watched them from the wall and didn't hide the
look. Let them see it. Shaking wide wet eyes, blood all over his face,
their marks on his skin.
There was nothing to be said. Not a single goddamn
thing to say.
Hakkai tried anyway. Idiot Hakkai. Actually tried
to climb off the bed, to go over to him with ki light humming on his fingers
offering to heal. Sanzo lashed out with his arm when he got too close.
"Shit," Gojyo was saying. "Shit. Oh my god."
He sank back on the mattress. Legs failing. Hakkai
didn't dare go near him.
You decided to do this because you wanted this.
Because you wanted to feel it for yourself, to be with them, to get what
you never would otherwise.
This was the reason they'd never have touched you.
The real you. This is why.
Nothing to say. Not a single thing to say.
-----
15:53, 11 August 2005.
No clones were harmed in the making of this fanfic.